Spontaneity
by all-hail-queen-ga'ran
Summary: Professor Layton has noticed a certain charm in his new assistant. After an evening out together, things get very heated between them. LaytonXEmmy. Graphic, shameless smut. Commission for the lovely Zillabean in exchange for LaytonXFlora art.


**Special thank you to the amazing Zillabean, who drew the most beautiful LaytonXFlora art ever in exchange for this filth. Enjoy it...**

The restaurant was a fine establishment. It was the sort of place that screamed "elegance" in every detail. Exquisite paintwork coloured the cavernous ceiling, satin curtains covered the windows, and a quintet of tuxedoed violinists occupied the stage.

In Layton's eyes, the decor could almost be compared to the beauty of his lovely assistant.

Emmy Altava sat opposite Layton, perusing the menu with great concentration. She wore a fitted silk dress, which hugged her slender figure, and contrasted with her pale skin with it's deep red colour. Her lustrous dark hair was loose, bouncing around her dainty face. Layton caught his hungry stare, and brought his eyes back down to his own menu.

The two were dining together to celebrate their success in Misthallery. Layton had worried that the location he chose would seem too much like a date, but Emmy was immediately open to the idea. It was completely normal and platonic for him to take her out to thank her for her efforts, wasn't it? Now, sitting across the table from her, he wasn't so sure.

"The food here looks amazing, Professor!" Emmy exclaimed, breaking the silence. "It's so kind of you to bring me here."

"Oh, it's nothing, Emmy," Layton smiled, "treating a lady to fine cuisine is the duty of every gentleman."

Emmy laughed, leaning forward. "Well aren't I a lucky lady, eh, Professor?"

She caught his eyes for a second, and Layton was sure he saw a flirtatious smile grace her lips. A blush began to rise in his cheeks. A waiter approached their table, bringing them both back to reality.

"Are you two ready to order?" he asked in a thick French accent, his small notepad at the ready.

"Oh, ah-um," Layton hesitated; the moment between him and Emmy had diverted his attention from deciding what to order.

"May I suggest the couple's platter, Sir, Madam?" The waiter asked, "you two may such a lovely couple."

Layton blushed, "oh, no. We're not-"

"The couple's platter will do us nicely, thank you," Emmy answered. She smiled at Layton, and took a sip of her white wine.

Layton wasn't quite sure what to say. Was Emmy hinting at something? Would he make a fool of himself for addressing the matter? Or was this really a chance to get what he'd wanted for the six months she'd been working for him? He mentally chastised himself for considering such a thing, sipped his own red wine, and resigned to speak nothing of the issue. There was just no way this was what he thought it was.

oooooooooooooooooooo

An hour later, they stepped out into the crisp night. Layton immediately felt a chill in the air, and worried for Emmy, who only had a strapless dress on under her shawl. Automatically, he removed his jacket, wrapping it around his shivering assistant.

"Oh," Emmy smiled in surprise. "Thank you, Professor."

"You're very welcome, Emmy."

The two chatted about themselves and their upcoming work as they strolled alongside the moonlit Thames. Layton found himself enraptured by Emmy's seemingly mundane tales, the way she presented every detail as the most fascinating of information. He hardly ever felt attracted to a woman until he had built a strong friendship with her, but despite hardly knowing the vivacious brunette, he felt a strong lust for her.

They reached the Laytonmobile, and Layton clambered into the driver's seat, slamming the door. Absent-mindedly, he turned to Emmy, who was already staring at him with an air of expectation. The moonlight streamed in through the car's window, illuminating her light skin with an ethereal glow. Layton dropped his gaze, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

Emmy grinned, apparently noticing his discomfort. In a flash, Layton's neck was enveloped in toned arms, and his lips crushed into plump, rouged ones. Layton froze, his arms stuck awkwardly out to his sides. Emmy's mouth continued to move along his with urgent passion, and he felt a bulge rapidly growing in his crotch. He felt powerless: this was so wrong, he was her employer. But he was captivated, unable to break away.

Emmy finished the kiss with a high-pitched moan, the sound so feminine that Layton felt his body respond to it. Mischievous dark eyes stared into his, daring him to make a move. Impulses battled in bus mind, urging him to kiss her, urging him to tell her "no". The gentleman inside him barely managed to come out on top.

"Emmy!" he painted, angry. "What was that about?" He received a wry smile in reply.

"What do you mean, Professor?" she challenged. "You know _exactly_ what that was about." She paused. "I want you, Professor. You turn me on so much," her tone was oddly innocent. She gestured to his swollen crotch, "clearly, you feel the same way."

Layton wracked his mind for any weak argument that would convince not only Emmy, but also himself, that they shouldn't make love right there in the car. The intensity of his desire for her was building, and he began to imagine the roughness with which he so badly wanted to-

"I'm your boss, Emmy," he protested. "It just...isn't right."

Emmy tutted, "I don't think you mean that at _all,_ Professor." Reaching a hand behind his head, Emmy pressed his lips to hers once more. Layton felt her fingers grip his wrist, and guide his hand to rest on her breast. He inhaled sharply, his hand burning as if he'd just placed it on a stove. They were brewing up in his head again, the fantasies he'd had about her, the force he wanted to _fuck_ her with.

Layton's eyes widened. He had spent _hours_ fantasizing about Emmy's breasts: how they would feel in his hands, or with his face buried between them. Now he was touching the, for real. The bulge in his pants swelled ever larger, and he imagined sliding himself between Emmy's breasts, the soft flesh pressing all around him, her pink tongue lapping at his tip...

"...Emmy..." Layton protested. "We- we can't do this." He gasped as he felt Emmy's hand slip underneath his shirt, undoing his belt with deft fingers. She gripped his erection, her slender fingers cool and pleasant against his throbbing length. He closed his eyes, lost in the ecstasy of the feeling.

"Yes," Emmy countered," yes we can."

Something inside Layton snapped at her words.

He lunged forward, seizing Emmy in a deep kiss. In her surprise, she let go of his erection, and Layton felt slim arms around his waist as he slowly lowered her to her back across the passenger's seat. Hungry for her, his hands wandered up her sides to her breasts once again. He massaged her chest in rhythmic motions, trying different areas until Emmy moaned into his mouth, indicating that he had found the spot. She broke away from the kiss and grinned up at Layton.

"I thought you'd _never_ come around, Professor." She began to gyrate her hips against his now rock hard length, "but you surprised me." Layton gasped awkwardly, unable to find words to respond while her centre was rubbing against his still bare tip. Emmy leaned up, her lipstick-smudged mouth brushing against his ear. "If you'd like to continue at your house, I'd be a _very_ happy lady," she whispered, an air of mischief in her voice. Layton was surprised by her sudden reluctance to continue where they were.

"I thought you were the _dirty_ type, Emmy," he growled. "Surely making love in a car would appeal to you _greatly._ "

"And I thought _you_ were a respectable gentleman," a smirk appeared on her lips, and she returned them once more to his ear, "and I don't think a _gentleman_ would appreciate an audience." Layton frowned in confusion. _What did she mean by-_

Then it hit him.

Horrified, he slowly turned his head and raised his gaze to the window. Sure enough, there were two teenage boys, staring open-mouthed at the couple. Layton made a small choking noise, launched himself off of Emmy, and rapidly buckled his trousers. The boys ran off down the road. Blushing beet red, he turned to his assistant. They were silent for a second, then they started to laugh.

"I suppose there's a first time for everything," Layton broke the silence. "We should head home."

"You can't just end it!" Emmy exclaimed. "A lady can't get her sleep when she needs...attending to." She glanced down at Layton's tented trousers. "Any by the looks of it, a gentleman won't have any more luck."

She was right, Layton decided. He wanted her more than he'd wanted anyone in a long time, and the thrill of being discovered in the throes of passion had only intensified his lust.

"Then, my lady, I invite you to spend the night at my house," he smiled. "If you'd be so kind to grace me with your company."

Emmy's lips pulled into a seductive smile. "Just drive, Professor."

Layton started the car, driving with urgency. He just had to get them home, then he could have her.

And he would _have_ her.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Layton barely managed to close the front door behind him before Emmy was on him, her head craned up, and her lips exploring the tensed muscles of his neck. He took her chin in his hand, raising her head for a hard kiss. Without breaking away from each other, they shed their coats, shoes, and Layton's hat.

The two raced upstairs without a word, only a sense of passion and urgency between them. Layton closed the bedroom door as Emmy threw herself on the bed, falling on her back with a bounce. The starlight fell across her body, creating little shapes of brilliant light all over her hair and the fabric of her dress. Layton paused for a moment, admiring the sight of her. She looked like a goddess, and she was _his_ tonight.

Unable to restrain his desire for her any longer, Layton followed Emmy onto the bed, yanking her dress down to expose her breasts. They were perfectly round, huge in comparison to Emmy's slim waist. Layton felt his erection grow so thick that the confines of his trousers were becoming uncomfortable. He placed his mouth over a hardened nipple, earning a contented moan from Emmy, then bit down in it. The gasp of pleasure the followed was almost enough to send him over the edge.

He hastily pulled her dress off of her, the smooth fabric sliding easily over her curves. He discarded it by the side of the bed into a rippling pool of red. Emmy was now wearing nothing but a lacy black thong. Layton raked his eyes over every inch of her pale body, her figure, her luscious treacle hair spread on the pillow around her head. He was hard almost to bursting point just from the sight of her.

"Did you wear that for me, you dirty girl?" he asked, his voice purring. A mischievous smile spread across Emmy's flushed face.

"Yes, I did, Professor," she said, her voice as playful. "I wanted to make you as hard as you could possibly get." Layton hooked a finger into the side of her panties, slowly dragging them over her small hips.

"It seems you have succeeded, my dear." He teased, reaching his other hand to squeeze her ass. Emmy kicked her panties off with her feet, and swiftly unzipped Layton's trousers, pulling them down with his boxers. His erection sprang free, and Emmy's eyes widened. Before she could speak, he forced her knees apart, and she yelped in surprise. He hovered at her entrance, his tip touching the thick juices that had coated there and begun to soak into the bed sheets below.

"I want to fuck you Emmy," Layton growled, "I want to take you hard." Emmy was breathing fast, shocked at the sudden break in his politeness. Layton realised that she'd probably never heard him swear before. "Do you want to be fucked hard?" He paused, waiting for her reply. "Tell me you want me to fuck you, Emmy."

"I want you to fuck me, Professor," Emmy obeyed, her voice strained in desire. Layton gripped her hips, and plunged inside her, prompting a cry of pleasure. The small size of her hips made her walls surprisingly small, giving Layton the most intense physical pleasure he had ever felt. The sensation of his long, thick length being buried so tightly inside her was almost too much to bear, and he began to noisily ram into her, Emmy crying out with each thrust.

"Is this what you like, my dear?" he asked, his tone almost predatory.

"Yes, ah! Yes," Emmy managed to say between moans. She arched her slender back and bucked her hips up to meet his with every thrust, and he was buried ever deeper inside her. She grabbed her breasts, holding them as they bounced from the motion of her body. "I'm close, Professor, I- ahh!" Emmy cried as she came ever nearer to orgasm. The increased force of their intercourse sent Layton over the edge, pulling Emmy's hips up hard as he came.

He pulled out of her and admired the sight of his juices trickling out of his assistant, coating her soft thighs and forming a pool on his bed. After resting for a second, he looked down at her. She still looked as ravishing as before, and Layton realised that he still had a throbbing erection, and that Emmy had not come yet.

"Do you want more, my dirty girl?" he purred. He received a swift nod in return, his assistant panting too much to form a reply. "Turn over, my dear," he commanded.

Emmy rolled onto her front, propping herself up on all fours. Her long hair reached all the way to her ass, and fell to both sides of her in a beautiful cascade. Layton positioned himself, and pushed into her womanhood once more. Emmy gasped as he slid even further inside of her than before, the angle allowing his length to touch all the right places along her walls. Layton felt it too; she felt far tighter this time. He began to move slowly, adjusting to the altered sensation. Emmy's moans were breathy and high-pitched, strained with the intensity of her pleasure.

"Shall I fuck you harder, Emmy?" Layton growled. "You want me to be rough, don't you?"

"Y- ah, yes, I do," Emmy breathed in reply. "Please, Professor- ahh!" She panted as Layton raked his fingernails down her side, leaving light red marks on her creamy skin. "Do that again- ahh!" she cried as her walls quivered rapidly, and she fell down on the bed, her upper body now lifted only by her elbows. Layton decided to stop scratching her, concerned by the angry reddening of the marks.

The new angle of Emmy's hips made the pleasure of their intercourse even more intense, and Layton felt his tip brush a new surface inside her that he couldn't reach before.

"Ah!" Emmy cried, "right there- ah!" Layton reached down and grabbed a fistful of her luscious hair, gently pulling her head back as he pounded into her with newfound urgency. The two of them pushed furiously against each other, their cries becoming one as they reached a euphoria, their bodies working in harmony to bring as much pleasure to both of them as possible. Once they both felt that they couldn't take any more, they came together, tides of orgasm washing through them.

Layton pulled out of Emmy and fell onto the bed next to her. She nimbly leapt onto the floor and made her way over to the bathroom adjoined to the room, her hips swaying with each step at a wider angle than they had before. Layton stared at her in disbelief; _he_ was absolutely exhausted from their experience, and couldn't fathom how Emmy could skip off like she had all the energy in the world. Layton heard the shower begin to run.

"I pride myself in my impeccable stamina," she called from the bathroom, as if she had read his mind. "Athletic training carries into every area. I can fight you for longer, but I can also _fuck_ you for longer." Layton chuckled; it was just like Emmy to bring up fighting at a time like this.

"Well I'm certainly grateful for that," he replied. "Although I must admit, I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of all that stamina of yours." He heard a pealing laugh over the sound of running water. "Anyway, what are you doing in there?"

"I'm cleaning myself up," Emmy called back, "I have _two_ of your loads in me, and that stuff doesn't just _stay_ up here, you know."

Layton laughed to himself, and turned over to go to sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooo

He awoke a few hours later to a still dark room. Emmy had joined him in bed, and was fast asleep, facing away from him on the far side, curled on her side in a foetal position. She was murmuring what sounded like "uncle Leon, uncle Leon, stop," though Layton couldn't be sure whether the sounds she made were actually words at all. She looked like a hedgehog who had sensed danger, he thought, protecting herself from the world around her. The way Emmy lay shocked and saddened him; he didn't expect someone so carefree to look so...vulnerable.

As Layton watched her flinch at the image in her mind's eye, he wondered what demons would haunt her sleep tonight.


End file.
